A Ring Around A Star
by MyNameIsAMystery
Summary: The best (and worst) day of Sophya's life was the day she almost died. Almost. And then she met the Doctor.


Lyla stepped into the attic bedroom Nazar had given her. It was small, dark, and fairly obvious that it hadn't been cleaned in a while. She fumbled for the light switch.

"There we go," Lyla sighed as light flooded the cramped room. She stretched, but there was little space. She stepped closer to the peak in the room, conscious of the single lightbulb hanging near her head.

_SLAM_! Lyla turned just in time to see the door closed as the lights flickered out. Panicked, she ran blindly towards it, but it was locked. The only light came from the hallway outside, from underneath the door. Lyla started banging on it, frightened and scared out of her wits. "Help! Someone help! I can't get out!"

With all the noise she was making, Lyla barely heard… she didn't know what it was. Was that… singing? It couldn't be. She stopped banging and listened.

"_Ring-a-round a rosy, pocket full of posies…_"

Lyla turned and would've have screamed except that she stuffed her fist in her mouth to choke down any sound. In the middle of the room stood a little girl in a strangely clean, white nightgown with paint splattered on her hands and arms.

Lyla was speechless. She thought that she was supposed to have this dorm all to herself. She sighed with relief, "I thought…"

"_Ashes, ashes…_"

It was then that Lyla noticed the paint on her hands was blood.

"_We all fall down…_"

The last thing Lyla Withers saw was the little girl, raising her hand.

Sophya Cavallo was reading when she heard the news. Her phone rang on her desk and she scrambled up to get it. She glanced at the caller ID. Hannah Garnett, her close friend and cousin. "Hey, Hannah!"

"Sophya. Newspaper, page 3A. Now."

Alarmed, Sophya snatched the newspaper on her bed and flipped to page 3A. "Er, what am I supposed to be looking at? All I see is some ad for lingerie."

There was a sigh on the other end. "Top right corner."

"Oh." Sophya looked. What she saw completely surprised her.

LOCAL MAN FINDS BODY IN HIS ATTIC

Nazar Kroncke, 32, reports that he found a body in his attic. Kroncke identified the body as Lyla Withers, the 21-year old tenant who had just moved in. On closer inspection, police learned that Withers had died of a broken neck, but there was no evidence as to how. The room had been locked from the inside. Lyla Withers is survived by her mother, Flora O'Hannegen, and her brother, Jack Withers.

"Oh my god." Sophya sat there, breathing heavily, staring at nothing. "Lyla Withers? As in, _our_ Lyla Withers?"

"There isn't any other Lyla Withers in Chiswick, is there?"

"I barely knew her…" Sophya breathed, running her fingers through her hair. "I barely knew her, Hannah. I planned to, but then…"

"They're having the memorial tomorrow at ten. Are you going?" asked Hannah.

"If Flora lets me."

"Oh, come on, Soph, of course she'll let you! The memorial's open to the public!"

"Mm," Sophya replied, distracted. She opened her laptop and logged on. "What's Mr. Kroncke's address?"

"I-I don't know. It didn't say."

"Hm." Opening a new tab, she typed in 'Nazar Kroncke'. "That's strange."

"What? What are you doing, Soph?"

"Googling Nazar Kroncke. According to this, Nazar Kroncke lives in Altena, Germany; Nimes, France; Drummin, Ireland; and our town of Chiswick, England."

"There could be multiple Nazar Kronckes, you know. I mean, there is another person named Sophya-with-a-y Cavallo."

"Yeah, but do all Nazar Kronckes have black hair, a goatee, and a 5-year old daughter named Lamia? This guy is suspicious, Hannah. I plan to find out why."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Hang on, that might be Dad. He's always forgetting his keys. Call you back?"

"Alright. Bye."

"Bye."

Sophya hung up. She raced down the stairs, two at a time, yelling, "Coming!"

The doorbell rang twice.

"Alright, I'm coming!"

Sophya yanked the door open. "We're not interested," she said when she saw the man in front of her wasn't her dad.

"I'm not selling anything." He had a slight Scottish accent, just like her dad.

Sophya squinted at him like her mother used to do. "So why're you here then?"

"I've come to see if you have any information pertaining to the death of Lyla Withers." Again with the Scottish accent.

She squinted at him again. "Who are you?"

The man smiled at her. "I'm the Doctor."

Sophya's face hardened. "We don't need a doctor here, thanks." She began to shut the door in his face.

"Wait wait wait wait wait wait-" The 'Doctor' held out his hand to keep the door from closing. "I'm not that kind of doctor. I'm more like- well, let's pretend you invited me inside. It's not safe keeping outside right now." He neatly stepped inside her house. A stunned Sophya closed the door behind him.

"What's your name, by the way? I'm the Doctor, in case you hadn't noticed." Sophya followed the Doctor into the kitchen. He began to inspect her coffee maker.

Sophya finally regained her senses. "Who the bloody hell are you and what the HELL are you doing in my house?!" she yelled at him. "And what are you doing to my coffee machine?"

He looked up in surprise. "Making us coffee, of course."

"Just because I'm letting you do this doesn't mean I trust you," grumbled Sophya. "I still don't know how you know about Lyla, and why you think being outside is dangerous." She glared at the steaming cup of black coffee the Doctor had made for her.

"Drink your coffee, it's getting cold," The Doctor sipped his coffee. Sophya decided to glare at him instead.

"You still didn't answer my questions," she frowned at him. "How do you know about Lyla?"

"Well, for starters, it's in the newspaper." He gestured at the pile of newspapers near her.

"Yes, but not in the first page," Sophya countered. "Besides, the only people I know that read the newspaper front-to-back are my mum and my cousin."

"You'd be surprised at how many people read the newspaper these days," The Doctor smiled at her. "Or was it the next year? Ah, I can't keep track of all the years I land. What year is this?"

"You don't know?" Sophya looked at him in surprise. "You've read the news front to back and you still don't know what day it is? What kind of doctor are you?"

"Oh, just tell me," The Doctor sighed.

Sophya rolled her eyes. "July 15, 2003. And you _still_ didn't answer my question!"

"You haven't answered mine," The Doctor retorted. "I still don't know your name."

"Sophya Cavallo, with a y, not an i. Now answer my question!"

The Doctor leaned back and considered her. "You know, the first time I read that article I thought, Just a normal death in a small town. But there was a sentence in that article, that prompted me to investigate. You know what it was?"

Sophya shook her head.

"It was locked on the inside," he breathed. "With no evidence as to how, because it wasn't a door that could be locked. Now I'd say _that_ is pretty suspicious to me."

"So what do you want me to do?" Sophya asked, frowning. "I mean, I'm no one special."

"Here's something I haven't said in a while," The Doctor smiled. "Sophya Cavallo, will you be my companion?"


End file.
